Prologue
KAI
The night was merciless. A cold wind swept through the narrow, deserted streets, carrying with it the faint scent of rain and decay. The sky above was a heavy blanket of dark clouds, swallowing the pale light of the half-moon. Shadows clung to every corner, twisting and stretching in the dim glow of flickering street lamps. It was the kind of night that whispered secrets and hid dangers—a night where fear had its own heartbeat.
I had to run.
There was no other choice left to me. No back door, no alley to hide in, no moment to catch my breath. The pounding of my heart echoed in my ears, matching the rapid thud of my footsteps against the cracked pavement. Behind me, the sound of footsteps too—slow, deliberate, relentless.
The man was following me.
His presence was a dark stain on this broken world—a relentless shadow that seemed to absorb the very light around him. I didn't dare look back, but I could feel his eyes burning into my back, cold and merciless. Every muscle in my body screamed to keep moving, to escape the nightmare closing in on me.
Blood coated me, thick and sticky, seeping into the fabric of my clothes and dripping down my skin. It was warm, almost hot—alive. But it wasn't mine.
I tried to ignore the sticky warmth that ran down my arms and legs, tried to focus on the only thing that mattered: survival. Each breath I took was ragged and shallow, but I forced myself to keep going. The street ahead twisted into a narrow alleyway, dark and foreboding, but it was my only chance.
I could barely make out the shapes lying on the ground ahead. Two bodies—small, fragile—children. Their faces were pale in the moonlight, eyes closed as if they were merely sleeping, but the blood pooling beneath them told a far crueler story. I swallowed hard, pushing down the nausea rising in my throat. There was no time for grief, no time for tears. I had to run.
Suddenly, my foot caught on something hard and unyielding. I stumbled, my body lurching forward, heart leaping into my throat.
Oh no.
Oh no.
I looked down and saw it—a third body. Another child, lifeless and still, sprawled across the cracked concrete beneath me. The cold blood pooled around the face, mixing with the grime and dirt. I wanted to scream, to collapse, to run and never look back. But I forced myself to my feet. Three dead bodies. Three innocent lives stolen in this forsaken place.
And still, the man was coming.
His footsteps grew louder, heavier, more menacing. I could hear the rasp of his breath, shallow and uneven like mine. The street lamps flickered, casting dancing shadows over his figure as he emerged from the darkness.
He was tall, with broad shoulders that made him look like a predator ready to pounce. His clothes were torn and stained, as if he had been through a battle himself. His skin was pale, almost sickly, but his eyes burned with a fierce intensity—cold, calculating, and devoid of mercy.
His face was scarred, a jagged line running from his temple to his jaw, twisting his expression into a permanent snarl. His mouth was set in a grim line, lips pressed tight as if he was holding back something far worse than anger.
I wanted to run, but my legs trembled, weighed down by exhaustion and fear. The blood on my body felt like a mark—a sign that I was somehow connected to this horror, though I had no idea how or why.
Then, suddenly, a loud screech shattered the night. Tires screamed against the asphalt as a car came hurtling down the street, headlights blazing like twin suns cutting through the darkness.
The man didn't see it coming.
He was hit with a brutal force, the impact throwing him into the air like a ragdoll. A scream tore from his throat, raw and terrified, before he crashed onto the pavement with a sickening thud.
For a moment, everything was still.
The wind stopped. The shadows froze. The cold night held its breath.
I stood there, heart pounding, as the man lay motionless on the ground. The street stretched out around me, empty and silent except for the distant wail of sirens.
I didn't know if he was dead or alive. I didn't know what would come next.
But one thing was certain—I was still alive.
And I had to keep running.